


The Right

by coveredbyroses



Series: 2019 SPN Kink Bingo [19]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Blow Jobs, Cheating, F/M, Neighbors, Tumblr: spnkinkbingo, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:28:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21927202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredbyroses/pseuds/coveredbyroses
Summary: Dean’s not hunting anymore, attempting to live a normal life. You can’t seem to let him go.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/You
Series: 2019 SPN Kink Bingo [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1257542
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	The Right

**Author's Note:**

> This fills my ‘Neighbors’ square for @spnkinkbingo. This is not necessarily a Dean/Lisa/Reader love triangle. I leave your interpretation up to you. I hope you enjoy ;)

You shouldn’t be doing this. He’s got a girlfriend now - a job, a life. You don’t have the fucking right to unravel it all, not now, not after everything. You don’t have the right to be pressed up against the bone-white wall of his spotless home, sighing out your pleasure into pine-scented silence, to the eavesdropping pictures and wall decor. 

You hate yourself for this, yet you don’t stop him from licking into your mouth, don’t stop him from slipping his fingers under your shirt to graze over your belly. You don’t stop him from wedging a heavy, muscled thigh between yours.

Your stomach twists with an intertwining of guilt and inescapable lust as he works your jeans open, then burrows his hand underneath the worn elastic of your panties to skim rough fingertips through the wet of your folds. Your chest seizes when he works two fingers inside, when he rasps his thumb over your clit-

Wrong doesn’t even _begin_ to cover this.

Only minutes later, you come shivering and slack-jawed around three of those stretched fingers, your own hands fisting the flannel hugging his shoulders. It’s dark in this hallway, but the golden light floating in from the living room catches in his eyes, and you can see the flicker of some mixture of guilt, lust, and awe in the deep green of them.

You didn’t have the right to follow him here, you didn’t have the right to move in next door. You didn’t have the right to look her square in the eye and introduce yourself as the new neighbor. You hate yourself for all of it. You imagine Dean loathes himself just as much, yet he doesn’t stop you from sinking to your knees, doesn’t stop you from sliding his belt open, from popping the button and dragging down the zipper. He doesn’t stop you from reaching inside his boxers and pulling him free. He doesn’t stop you from taking him inside the wet heat of your mouth.

He comes shuddering, fingers still curled in the wild mess of your hair he’s made. You swallow it down like every time before, use your fingers to dab at any remnants lingering in the corners of your mouth, and then you smile a smile that doesn’t ever reach your eyes anymore. Dean matches it.

You both whisper out a _see ya later_ as he walks you to the door, then he presses a kiss to your cheek before you step out into the autumn night.

You can still taste him after the door clicks shut, after the porch light cuts out. You can still feel his hands, smell his scent as you drag yourself back to the house you can never call home.


End file.
